


All Is Well

by auroreanrave



Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff and Crack, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 16:41:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10666659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auroreanrave/pseuds/auroreanrave
Summary: Sylvester knows that everyone assumes he doesn't care about sex. Everyone but Tim that is.





	All Is Well

**Author's Note:**

> This is the most rare of rare pairs, born out some interactions on the show, and, to be honest, some adorable social media posts. I wanted to explore Sylvester's attitudes towards sex and sexuality a bit more, seeing as they're never explored in the show (even in a PG-13, suitable-for-TV way). Plus, big guys need love too. I really hope you enjoy this, as sweet and simple as it is.
> 
> Title comes from Christian Falk and Robyn's "Dream On".

The thing about Sylvester is, everyone seems to think he's repulsed by sex.

He can understand why, to be honest. Not the 'why you'd be repulsed by sex' thing, although he can suppose that Walter, who at best sees sex as some kind of biological requirement, some itch needs sporadically scratching, rather than as something more pleasurable. He can't say he's ever asked Walter though, so who knows.

No, he gets why people think he might be repulsed by sex. Maybe not 'repulsed'. Ambivalent, maybe. Uninterested. People look over him and see a too-tall, too-big genius with glasses and a penchant for sweater vests and think, 'oh, him'. Sylvester knows it's not fair, exactly, but it's part of the world.

He does, for the record, like sex. Not that he's had a significant amount of it for it to be a declarative part of his already overworked brain, but he's had enough that he can acknowledge that he finds it pleasurable. Before his wedding night with Megan (which was mostly sleeping and playing cards and finally some achingly careful under-the-belt action), he's had a couple of incidents; once in his post-adolescent Vegas days, he found himself with a lap full of a stripper named Rodrigo who slipped his hands inside Sylvester's underwear and made him see stars, and the other was a girl in college who kissed him and groped him with the lights of the frat house behind them. He'd enjoyed both times, for better or worse, severe and overriding anxiety in mind, and so he'd mentally chalked up 'probably bisexual' in his head next to the fact he thought that Walter and Paige were equally beautiful, and then left it there while he went on with more important things like Super Fun Guy- and his Scorpion family and running around into more dangerous situations that even he, a fantasy enthusiast, could have dreamt of.

So, it's a bit of a surprise when on a warm September night, Tim flops down in the deckchair beside him on the top of the garage and asks, casually, "So you're bi, right?"

Sylvester splutters into his drink, soaking his shirt a little, and recovers enough for at least ten seconds of awkward noises before saying, "I, um, I, how did - I mean, yes?"

"Is that an actual yes?" Tim asks, a note of teasing colouring his voice.

"I mean, technically, we're all on a spectrum according to Kinsey, but I would say that when I think about... that sort of thing, I tend to think of it, and by it I mean myself, sort of... in the middle. Ish," Sylvester finishes, a little lamely.

Tim smiles and takes a sip of his drink, as if Sylvester's passed some test he had no idea he was taking. "No worries, man. I just had a feeling. It's same here, so no worries about it if you're not out or anything."

"I mean, I..." Sylvester starts, before the rest of his sentence dissolves into mental mush. He has no idea about the team, whether or not they have a feeling too. If they've ever suspected anything. He suspects they wouldn't care either way - Cabe might have an odd look in his eye if he ever, for whatever reason, mentioned a boyfriend, but even then, he suspects that old-fashioned sentiment would probably prevail anyway.

"I don't think so -- I mean, I'm not. Really. I don't think it matters," Sylvester says.

"Cool," Tim says, adjusting in his chair, fingers twitching around the half-empty beer bottle in his hand. Sylvester follows the shape of Tim's chin to his mouth and squashes down in any rising warm feelings he might have. Tim might be ridiculously handsome and look good in a tuxedo (thank you mission to stop a jewellery heist in Monaco) and be competent and is at least somewhat interested in guys, but he's also Tim, Paige's amicable ex and valuable member of Team Scorpion. who looks like the Vitruvian man by way of an Abercrombie and Fitch model. Crushing on him won't solve anything.

Instead, Sylvester takes the much healthier and less soul-eroding choice of heading over to Ralph so that he can help calculate golf ball trajectories onto the buckets set up by Happy and Toby on the next rooftop along.

 

* * *

 

 

The next few missions run along with alarming easiness. No international incidents, no diplomatic dilemmas, nothing more than straightforward jobs.

The next one though breaks their peaceful streak - and breaks it hard.

No one dies or gets critically injured helping stop a Californian kidnapping cell, thank God, but Sylvester ends up with a bullet graze scar against the side of his ear. It'd only needed a stitch or two, but Tim pulls him outside when they're all ready to go home.

"Tim?"

"Dude, you just..." Tim breaks off, his hands fisting in Sylvester's jacket. Sylvester has the urge to smooth down the fabric, but he's too distracted at the moment by the heat of Tim's body scant inches from his own.

"What?"

"You have to be more careful. Okay?"

"I mean... I wasn't exactly trying to get shot. And I didn't. Not really," Sylvester insists. Tim raises a hand to run his fingers along the little ridge that'll be hidden by Sylvester's hairline before long, even if no hair'll grow there again.

"I know. I just... I don't wanna think about anything bad happening to you, alright?" And then Tim leans forward and presses his mouth to Sylvester's.

The world fades for a moment, and then explodes back in a rush of sweetness and bright colours, as Sylvester responds to the kiss, feeling too-hot and shivery at the same time.

"What are we - ?" Sylvester gets out when they stop for a snatch of breath.

"It's just fun," Tim says with a hungry smirk, and then his mouth is on Sylvester's neck and it's liquid fire and a flush that runs from temples to toes and he's grateful that there's not much light because he's pulling at Tim to drag him even closer if possible.

For the first time in what seems like forever, his anxiety just... stops. The voice in his head is silenced, and he melts into Tim's heat, his scent, the solid lines of his body. Tim responds in kind, hand curling into Sylvester's hair as they kiss.

This is... different to his other experiences. The lack of anxiety, or worry, or the bittersweet sadness of Megan's smile, they're... faded away. He has a handsome man in his arms, kissing him like they have all the time in the world and no time whatsoever, and it's warm and sweet and feels impossibly good.

Sylvester leans back against the brick wall and smiles to himself.

 

* * *

 

Things get more interesting after that. At least, that's what Sylvester thinks its supposed to be. To Sylvester, it seems like Tim is trying to get them caught, or is even trying to shed some of Sylvester's inhibitions. Sylvester likes his inhibitions, he does, they give him a warm, comfortable blanket of boundaries in a world that seems to be too lawless and illogical sometimes.

He can't really argue, though, the first time that Tim goes down on him in the garage.

They're alone there, post-mission. Cabe and Walter and the others had headed out to Vermont to help curb a weird biological infestation problem, leaving Sylvester behind to calculate potential growth rates, and Tim to finish up paperwork from the VA.

Once Team Scorpion are in the air, successful and sleepy and safe, Tim turns off his comms and kneels down in front of Sylvester, his hands braced on Sylvester's thighs.

"Tim? What are you - ?" He's cut off with Tim's kiss, and his hands slide automatically to Tim's neck and the back of his head. They've snuck kisses like this before - when picking up Cabe's beer for a Scorpion social night, or in the movie theatre waiting for the latest Marvel movie while Paige and Ralph get snacks - but this is in their workplace, where anyone could walk in and see them.

"I want to - I mean, if you're okay with me..." Tim says, trailing off, biting his lip, before he unzips Sylvester's pants and slowly grips his cock through the fabric of his Super Fun Guy boxers.

"I - yes - " Sylvester gasps, and Tim grins, wolfish, before he frees Sylvester's cock from his underwear and swallows him down.

About twenty seconds in, Sylvester is really glad he turned his comms off. Some things, even amongst a team of perceptive geniuses, need a modicum of privacy. Especially when they involve Sylvester's choked-off cries.

 

* * *

 

 

Cabe catches Sylvester messing around on his phone a couple of days later. Fortunately Google in its infinite and terrifying wisdom decides to autocorrect Sylvester's search of 'how to fellate effectively' to 'how to filet effectively', so Sylvester gets a ten-minute talk from Cabe about the best way to prepare a freshly-caught trout and avoids a special circle of awkward hell.

From then on, he does his research - both theoretical and practical - strictly at home.

 

* * *

 

No one seems to notice in the team. Things keep running... well, maybe not smoothly, given that Scorpion has a propensity for getting into more trouble than they even try to court.

Walter proposes to Paige on a Thursday afternoon following the takedown of a rogue Nicaraguan general on US soil. Sylvester is soaked from the general's pool, Tim has a black eye from security personnel, and Happy's hair is singed from God only knows what, but it all fades into the background as Walter pulls the ring from his pants pocket.

"I, uh," Walter says, tripping over his own tongue, "I know that I'm not good at this sort of thing. At valid and authentic interpersonal relations. But I needed to... I cannot imagine life without you. You have made my life inexorably better with your presence and your companionship and your... your love. So... I was wondering if you might engage in a semi-important traditional - "

"Shut up," Paige says, before she tackles Walter to the ground. The kiss that ensues is passionate and messy and Toby grins wildly as he tucks a groaning Happy into the crook of his arm with a tender, "oh shush, Grumble."

"Yes," Paige says, a moment later. Her eyes glow and her smile is brilliant. Sylvester sees Tim shift a little uneasily next to him, and he rests a comforting hand on Tim's shoulder.

Later, after they've fussed over the ring, and Toby has commandeered the rooftop for an impromptu engagement party, Sylvester catches Tim at his tiny desk. "Hey, you okay?"

"I am," Tim says, after a moment. "I... I think I woulda been worse, long time ago. But no, I'm good. It's a little weird, but nothing I can't handle."

"Good. I'm glad," Sylvester says, genuinely satisfied. "Are you coming up to the party?"

"I will do," Tim says, "once I've finished. You wanna hang out tonight?"

Sylvester blushes. Their 'hanging out' has become code for pizza and movies and the inevitable progression of kisses and wandering hands towards the bedroom. "Yeah. Yeah, that'd be nice. I mean, if you - "

"I definitely want to," Tim says. He looks for a moment, like he wants to stretch up and lean across his desk and kiss Sylvester, where anyone could see them. He doesn't though, but it's almost as good.

 

* * *

 

It's when they're next in bed together, sticky and exhausted and a bit breathless, when Tim brings it up. "I was thinking."

"We always are," Sylvester chimes in. His hair is a mess and he can feel drool and come on his chin from Tim's cock. He has the desperate urge to tidy himself, to shower and shower, and to make himself clean and tidy, but Tim is pillowed on his chest, and he prefers that a little bit more. Progress, he thinks.

"Smartass," Tim retorts, "I was thinking if you wouldn't mind if I left some stuff here. You know, for next time."

"What kind of stuff?"

"Spare toothbrush, shirt or two. Maybe even some underwear," Tim says pointedly. Sylvester knows that Tim has taken to carrying this kind of stuff in his car - the clothes at least. Tim hasn't broached the subject of sharing Sylvester's toothbrush and he's glad for it - he'd hate to tell Tim a flat outright no.

"I mean, potentially," Sylvester says. It's nothing big - just a spare toothbrush to share the space in his bathroom, and a shirt unlike any of his in a drawer. It's still... scary and he can feel his reticence build, before he notes the tension creeping into Tim's shoulders. "Sure. Why not?" The feeling of anxiety loosens a little in his chest. Not completely, but a little.

Tim smiles and presses a kiss into Sylvester's shoulder before rolling away and heading towards the bathroom. Sylvester watches him go, fondness and fear waging war in his chest, and drifts off into a nap to the sound of Tim's off-key, happy humming.

 

* * *

 

 

There's a fight that's really, really dumb, when Sylvester thinks about it.

There's trouble and explosions and gunfire, and Sylvester and Happy ducking around the back end of a disused truck, trying desperately to get Walter and Tim and Cabe out of danger while Toby and Paige grab the hostages.

It's a whirling scream of fire and machinery and Sylvester ends up with a bullet in his upper arm. Happy screams at him, pulling him down, and he can hear his heart in his ears, and all he can think is that he needs to move, move, move. It's only Happy's hands, insistent and metal-tight on his wrists, that stop him from running.

Later, when everything is settled up, Sylvester is loaded up into an ambulance and Tim sits down beside him. "You fucking idiot," Tim says, low and angry, even as his hands curve around Sylvester's. The doors close behind them on a setting sun and worried teammates. "Why didn't you stay down?"

"Wasn't intentional," Sylvester replies, floating and hazy and light purple thanks to the morphine in his veins. Tim is ridiculously handsome, even when he's mad and his face pinches a little. "You were in there worse."

"I'm trained, Sly. Don't start," Tim harrumphs.

There's a long period of silence, broken only when the ambulance crew pack up and pull away to disappear down the road, following the other ambulances with the hostages.

Eventually, Tim speaks up. Softly. Hesitantly. "I know... I know this is what you do. I'm not an idiot. This is your team, your family. I wouldn't ever... stop you from going out into the field. They need you and you need to help them. I just - I just want you to stay safe. Alright?"

"I know. Believe me, if I could keep everyone I care about in a safe little bubble, then I'd be tempted. But I can't, and I wouldn't want to. Toby keeps telling us to live our dreams and to not be afraid, and I think that he's a tiny bit right. Only like ten-percent right, but..." Sylvester says, ending with a double shrug of his shoulders.

Tim dissolves into chuckles, breaking the irascible mood around them, and for the first time, Sylvester wonders what it'd be like to have Tim around permanently.

 

* * *

 

 

The team finds out, because of course the team finds out.

It happens on a quiet Friday morning when there's nothing to do. No jobs, no missions, the Scorpion Olympics has wrapped up yesterday when there was even less to do.

Sylvester gets a text from Tim. "He says he'll be here in fifteen minutes with the donut order," he announces to the others.

"Ooh, you mean Donut Be Crazy?" Toby says from his position at the small card table, building a tiny pyramid out of playing cards. "They have the best caramel doughnuts in all of LA. Nay, California."

"Traffic must be bad," Happy says, destroying the pyramid to deal out cards in a game, "because it normally only takes ten minutes. Your place is just around the corner from Donut Be Crazy."

Sylvester pauses. "Why - why would Tim be coming from my place?"

A pause ripples amongst the team, before Walter looks up from his tablet. "Because you're currently engaging in a sexual - and I would also guess romantic - relationship with him."

Sylvester freezes. His entire body turns to living marble. How did they know? How?

"I - I just - what?" Sylvester chokes out. He can feel his face blush crimson. "How - how long have you - ?"

"In fairness, I thought it was useful for the team," Toby says, tapping his foot against the card table. "Stress relieving, you balance each other out, there's been no arguments..." He shoots a pointed look at Walter and Paige who blush.

"Which is all good news in my book, kid," Cabe says, making his turn in the game of gin rummy he, Toby, and Happy have started playing.

"I mean - how did you find out?"

Happy snorts a little and Toby nudges her shoulder with a grin.

"What?" Sylvester demands. He can feel his cheeks burn red, the back of his neck glisten with sweat.

"Oh please, we've known for months," Toby says, eyes on his cards. He swaps out a king for a two. "Even Walter worked it out."

"What?" Sylvester asks. "How?""

"You've both been walking on air," Paige says, brightly.

"That, and I caught you guys making out in Tim's car a few weeks back," Happy chimes in, fishing around in her hand for a three which she swaps out for the new choice of a ten. She victoriously lowers her hand: "Gin."

Toby tosses his cards down sulkily as Sylvester pinwheels backwards.

When Tim arrives with doughnuts, Sylvester doesn't immediately tell him. He accepts his chocolate frosted with a smile, and then waits until the others are engaged in other things, before heading over to Tim's desk space. The man himself is sipping from coffee, earbuds in as he works on paperwork.

He smiles as he sees Sylvester approach and pops his earbuds out, the sounds of Marc Maron tinny and weak.

"Hey. What's up?"

"They know," Sylvester says. Tim blinks. "About - about us."

"Oh. Did you... if you didn't want - "

"It's not that I - I'm not ashamed or anything," Sylvester says, "but I didn't want to be... outed like this. To be so obvious about something that I thought was private. You know?"

"I mean," Tim says placatingly, "we do work in a team of super geniuses and a woman who is intrapersonally brilliant. It's not exactly a massive plot twist."

Sylvester chokes down on his retort, because point.

Tim holds Sylvester's hands. "Have they said anything negative about it?"

"No," Sylvester agrees.

"Then," Tim replies, "how about we just let it run. You seem happy, I'm definitely happy, the team seem fine. It's all gonna be fine."

Tim presses a kiss to Sylvester's cheek and heads back to his desk to answer his ringing phone.

Sylvester waits until he's outside to let out the breath he hadn't been aware that he was holding. He's going to be fine. Just fine.

 

* * *

 

 

Walter and Paige's wedding does not go off without a hitch. Of course it doesn't.

There's a dozen or so minor emergencies before the big day - wrong flowers, the priest falls ill with the flu, the O'Briens' flight gets delayed, the country estate that's holding the reception is nearly flooded - and they handle everything. Walter spends his bachelor night with Sylvester and Toby and Cabe, drinking whiskey and trying to solve impossible math problems with Play Doh and tikki dolls, while Paige and Happy destress before the big day with a compromise of action movies with champagne in a spa.

Sylvester tries to ignore a series of texts from a clearly bored Tim about the late-night detail he's pulling for a Bahrainian ambassador in LA, replete with sad-face emojis and achingly funny commentary.

The morning of the weekend is crisp and clear and beautiful for May, which is why, of course, an eco-terrorist cell decides to set explosives along an oil pipeline a mile from the glade where Walter and Paige are getting married. There's chases and explosions and Paige ends up with tape across her knuckles from punching the lead terrorist in the face, and they eventually have the ceremony two hours late. Ralph's hair is a glorious mess.

But it's perfect. Walter and Paige exchange their vows with mud-streaked attire, hands entwined, and the rest of the world an insignificant blur. Walter promises to be there for Ralph, as he always has been, and even Happy gets teary-eyed.

Sylvester watches it all, and when Tim's hand slips into his, a warm, reassuring squeeze of palm and fingers, he squeezes it right back.

 

* * *

 

 

That night, there's dancing and some drinks and teary speeches from Cabe and Veronica and Toby and Sylvester makes sure to dance with everyone. Louise finds him and kisses his cheek and tells him that he's always family, regardless, and Sylvester blushes because of course she knows. He can feel Tim's eyes hot on his back from across the dancefloor.

Once everyone is done and tired, they retreat their rooms. Tim and Sylvester sit in their bed, checking their emails, arms touching, and Sylvester feels beyond content. Settled and happy, in a way that only Megan had previously done so. Similar but different.

"So," Sylvester says, warm and happy and open, "do you want to make this official?"

"Are you asking for my class ring?" Tim teases, grinning. "Are you asking me if I wanna go steady with you, Mr Dodd?"

Sylvester huffs and then Tim's leaning up, eyes clear and bright and smile so wide it might just burst off his face, to kiss him.

Sylvester wakes up the morning after, with Tim's college class ring on his right pinky finger, and Tim's arm snug around his waist, and his heart has never felt lighter.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it - I used a lot of my own personal experiences with anxiety to help shape Sylvester's reticence to some attitudes of intimacy; even though he's a kind, caring individual, he's also very set in his ways and has anxiety and potentially some OCD to contend with. If the writing in the fic doesn't wholly match up to the in-universe expectations of Sylvester's attitudes, then I apologise.


End file.
